


A Certain Slant of Light

by TheCorrosivePen



Category: Atlantis (UK TV)
Genre: Extended Scene, F/M, Holy shit that sexual chemistry, Jason/Medea - Freeform, Season 2 Episode 10 Dying of the Light, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-21
Updated: 2015-12-21
Packaged: 2018-05-08 01:48:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,901
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5478797
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheCorrosivePen/pseuds/TheCorrosivePen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The connection between Jason and Medea is too strong to ignore, but does giving into their desires lead to the the dying of the light? </p>
<p>Extended scene for the end of Season 2, Episode 10 Dying of the Light</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Certain Slant of Light

**Author's Note:**

> I found the sexual chemistry between Jason and Medea to be insane and this piece essentially wrote itself. Happy Solstice!
> 
> Title from Emily Dickinson's poem of the same name.

“How… will I know you won’t just turn me in?”

The hand in Medea’s hair was rough, ensnaring her curls and tugging them brutally away from her scalp, but she trembled as she stared back into Jason’s deep brown eyes. She had been fighting this, telling herself the dreams would pass, that the sight of him would not send her heart soaring and her blood pounding, but she could hardly deny their connection now. She had betrayed Pasiphae, her one true guardian, for this man. She risked a traitors’ death, but she had no choice. Saving Jason wasn’t a decision she had made; it was her existence. They were bound together in eyes of the Gods and Medea had no desire to fight against their will.

She stared back into his luminous eyes, losing herself in their fathomless depths. “You do not.”

Jason stared back at her for an infinite moment before they crashed together, his lips searing into hers, their breaths mingling in the quiet of the forest. Medea had been kissed before, but nothing that prepared her for the feeling of Jason devouring her. She had no idea what to do with her hands, her lips, but they seemed to have a mind of their own, matching his desperation in each caress. He was burning her alive; her blood was boiling and her skin was crawling and all she wanted was to be closer.

His strong arms on her shoulders drove them backward across the mossy rocks, her cloak catching as they rolled to the ground. Medea’s heart pounded out of her chest as he pulled back, his elbows digging into the dirt on either side of her flushed face. Jason’s lips were sinfully bruised and Medea wanted nothing more than to taste them again. She could never have enough of him. Her skin sang where he touched her, transcending her from the mortal realm. She’d known they were drawn to each other, touched by the Gods as they were, but this, this was more than even her most vivid dreams.

He bowed his head, his dark curls teasing the skin of her cheek as his breath came in rapid pants. Medea’s blood ran cold at his hesitation. She wasn’t sure she would survive having him refuse her now. Before this had been a dream, a pale imitation of reality, but now he was hot against her and his breath danced over her skin, sending shivers of uncontrollable desire rocketing down her spine.

He tilted his angular jaw toward her, his full lips barely caressing her cheek as his eyes bored into to hers. “This is no trick of Pasiphae’s?”

Her breath released with all the violence of water breaking a dam. “No. This is no trick of Pasiphae’s. This is me. Ever since the tomb I have known there is something undeniable between us.”

“And yet you still tried to kill Ariadne.”

Medea had no idea what he expected of her. They were here, together, their skin burning into each other’s while Ariadne searched for him. And yet he did not move away from her, did not hesitate to succumb to their desires. “I trusted that Pasiphae knew best.”

His dark eyes narrowed as he drew a finger up the line of her jaw leaving a line of fire in its wake. “But you don’t believe that now, do you?”

“No,” she whispered, her voice breathy and foreign.

He dipped his head again, his lips ghosting across her cheek before coming to rest in her hair. His voice was rough as he murmured, “Good.”

Then he was upon her again, as if the hesitation was a mere figment of Medea’s imagination. She clung to him, wrapping her hands around his firm biceps. His mouth was even more demanding now, his grip more possessive. Their lips melted against each other as tongues clashed. He tasted like the forest itself, an elixir full of darkness and enchantment.

A keening moan split the silence as Jason pulled back to burry his mouth in the angle of her jaw and the curve of her neck. She moaned again as his teeth dragged down the column of her throat with a roughness that stoked the raging fire within her.

Medea needed more of him. Now. She pushed him away, reversing their positions as she crawled over him, her dark hair dragging across his leather armor. His dark eyes met hers, full of challenge and passion, and his lips quirked up in a satisfied smirk, giving him a sinfully sinister air. She relished the darkness within him, clawing its way to the surface, enshrouding them in its power. She met his smirk with one of her own as she extended a hand, his leather armor flying away from them.

Lust suffused his eyes as he glanced down at his tunic and then back up at Medea. “Useful, that.”

She let her lips sink further into a smirk as she shrugged off her cloak. “I look forward to experimenting and discovering the full possibilities contained within my powers…”

“Indeed,” Jason murmured, catching her hands with his own. He held them gently, the caress belying the heat pulsating from his luminous eyes. Holding her eyes with his, he undid her bracers, setting them aside on the forest floor. An exquisite shiver washed over Medea as his calluses caressed her virgin skin. Her breath caught in her throat as he circled a hand around each wrist. He stared up at her, his chest heaving and his eyes burning, and then she was on her back, her wrists securely in his grasp above her head.

“Tell me, Medea, what do you feel?”

His strong thighs clutched the sides of her waist and his free hand trailed lightly down her chest, skimming the neckline of her tunic before continuing between her breasts. Her skin was on fire, itching to be closer to him, to be consumed by him. Her mind had long since ceased any logical function. There was only Medea and Jason, together before the Gods, twisting into something so much more than a web of lust.

His eyes blazed down at her, their power compelling speech. “I feel everything. I feel you in me…”

The darkness around him surged and strengthened as she spoke, urging them onwards. His fingers dug deeper into her wrists, sending pangs of need racing through her.

“You are mine.”

She whimpered against him, her whole existence pared down to the feel of his hands caressing her skin. “I’m yours.”

“Mine,” he breathed again, the power swelling around them.  They were barely touching and yet Medea knew she was an instant away from falling off the precipice, from falling to pieces in his arms.

She fought against the tide of power, unwilling to let Jason dominate their union, even as every fiber of her yearned for him.  He would have her, but she would also have him. An extended hand had his tunic disappearing, leaving only the bull’s horns dangling at his neck. She grasped them firmly in the hand she’d freed, pulling him roughly toward her until his lips hovered against hers.

“And you are mine.”

Jason’s eyes flashed wide with surprise for an instant before blazing even brighter. They hung in the moment, Medea greedily examining his chiseled jaw and pouting lips. His fingers dug into her wrist even as she clung to the bull’s horns, neither yielding to the other. Finally, in a breath of need he growled, “I am yours.”

Medea’s heart soared as he crashed into her again, his grip on her wrist relaxing into a caress that had her trembling beneath him. His lips nipped and teased her own, sending lightning bolts of desire ricocheting through her. A full-bodied moan reverberated as his tongue darted into her mouth, tangling with her own. She relished the taste of him, gladly dueling him as Jason reached behind her, searching for the lacings of her half-corset. She arched into him, granting access. Within seconds his deft fingers undid the knots, freeing her of the leather and tunic in one fell swoop.

The cool forest air was a shock to her senses, but she had no time to react. His muscled chest was hot against her own, his flesh dragging tantalizingly against the tender skin of her breasts. She gasped out his name, a prayer and a plea, and he smiled down upon her, the expression full of darkness and light. His eyes were embers as she gazed up at him, willing him to claim her in every way as his own.

The mad lust that had fueled their encounter simmered now, giving way to a tenderness that had her gasping in entirely different ways. His touch was gentle as he trailed his fingers down her chest, taking care to gently cup her breasts before dancing across her bellybutton and down to the drawstring of her pants. He held her gaze for a long moment, giving plenty of time for hesitation or refusal, before undoing the knot and lifting her hips as he divested her of the remaining garments. Jason took his time with her laced sandals, his fingers tracing enchanting patterns across her skin. When they were fully loosened, he set them aside before placing their tunics end to end on the mossy forest floor.

She moved to kneel on the fabric, beckoning him to follow her. He obliged, his eyes blazing with need. His features were shadowed in the dying light of the day, but Medea knew she had never seen something as beautiful as he. Together they worked the fastenings of his pants and the lacing of his sandals. And then, finally, they were together, flesh against flesh on the forest floor.

Medea vibrated with a need she had never known, never imagined, as he knelt before her, all his beauty on display for her to see. She reached out, grasping him firmly in her hand and giving an experimental pump up and down his shaft. He gasped, his eyes shuttering as he trembled before her. Empowered she moved closer, her other hand tracing patterns across his chiseled chest.

“Medea”

The moan falling from his lips was magic to her ears. She moved her hand again, more rhythmically. Jason slumped further into her, his curls brushing her cheek as his head dropped to her shoulder. She twisted to kiss his cheek, murmuring,  “I have dreamt of this…”

He stilled her hand, guiding her to lie back among the tunics. His breath ghosting across her skin as he answered, “As have I.”

He dipped his head further into the curve of her neck, biting and licking with alacrity. Just as the sensation began to overwhelm her, he released her neck, moving further down to lavish attention on her pert nipples and supple breasts. She was moaning in his hands, a servant to his whims by the time his hands caressed her inner thighs. She had never been with a man, never even given it much thought beyond the elementary pieces of the process, but his touch did not startle her or feel unwelcome. Instead, she welcomed the invasion, parting her thighs and lifting her hips to meet his caress.

The first touch of his hand within her folds had her keening, begging for more. He smiled down at her, observing her reaction with rapt attention.  His dark brown eyes filled with so much more than passion now. The lust between them had morphed into something deeper so much deeper, more powerful. They were not giving in to temptation; they were consummating their union, their sacred pact supported by the Gods. This was not treason or blasphemy; it was ceremony.

Medea fell over the edge, cascading along the waves of pleasure that continued to wash over her before she even understood what was happening. As her senses returned, she blinked blearily up at Jason. His eyes were fastened on hers, luminous with emotion, dark with promise. He trailed a hand down her cheek, leaving fire crackling in its wake.

“You are so beautiful, goddess mine.”

Her breath caught at his words. For so long she had feared she would never experience this transcendence between worlds, this divinity, but here they were. Ariadne might be called a goddess on Earth, but Medea was his goddess and that was all that mattered. His power flowed through her, igniting her soul, more powerfully than even Pasiphae’s.

She caught her hands in his hair, the silky strands teasing her skin, as she closed the gap between them again. The nature of the kiss was different now, lingering and sincere. She memorized the feel of him against her, the bow of his lips, the rough of his stubble. This was their moment, a gift from the Gods, and she would not waste a second of it. Jason took equal care, mapping her skin with his fingers, savoring her taste with his tongue.

When he finally slid between her legs, kneeling before her as if before the Gods, she felt thoroughly worshipped. When he sank within her, filling her in way she’d never known possible, she felt the power swell around them, within them, a tornado of light and darkness swirling all the way to Mount Olympus. When he collapsed against her, spilling his seed and gasping her name as she shuddered around him, Medea felt complete. She had been searching for this, with Pasiphae, with her magics, but none could compare to Jason. She was ruined for all others and yet she would not take it back. Let the Gods judge her as they would, Medea had found salvation.

Although the darkness still hovered between them, a ghostly vale, it no longer filled her with an insatiable thirst for power or revenge. The darkness and the light stood together now, entwined in each other, indivisible. Medea glanced over at the rise and fall of Jason’s chest where he had rolled to lay beside her. She could see plainly now that he was of both, etched of darkness and light. It was his gift, his curse.

He shifted toward her, raising a hand to trail along her cheek. “What are you thinking?”

“That I have never known something as divine as this…” she murmured, leaning into the warmth of his touch. “That I cannot imagine letting you go.”

His eyes darkened as they bored into hers, emotions rushing past too quickly for her to identify. “And yet, you must.”

A bolt of white-hot panic shot through her, catapulting Medea into action. She twisted to face him, distress filling her every pore. No. She was not ready for this to be ripped away from her. Not now. Not ever. “What?”

“I will not have you suffer at Pasiphae’s hand because of me,” he explained, his voice taut with emotion. “You need to return to the palace, maintain your place in Pasiphae’s court.”

She glanced down at his still injured leg. She had preformed a minor healing spell earlier, but he would not last long alone in the woods with such an injury, especially with Pasiphae’s soldiers hunting him. “But your wound. I did not have time to fully heal it…”

“And it is good that you did not.” He sighed, falling back to the ground beside her. “Pasiphae undoubtedly knows I have been injured. It would only imbue suspicion if I were captured without a scratch on me.”

The chill of the forest was back, its icy tentacles racing across her limbs, through her heart. “So I am to return to Atlantis, leaving you injured, sure to be captured?”

He rolled his head to face her, his dark eyes pained. “I do not ask it lightly of you.”

Medea exhaled deeply, gathering her strength. “Then I will do my best to change her mind. You are her son and she does feel the bond between you. There is yet a chance I may sway her away from your execution.”

Jason pushed himself upright, wincing as the movement tugged at his wound. He glanced back down at her as he reached to gather his clothing. “I will not forget this.”

She rose to her feet as well, the damp forest floor compressing under her bare feet. “I could not forget this if I tried.”

He finished tying the drawstring of his pants before turning to her, his bare chest glowing and the bull’s horns flashing in the light of the rising moon. They stood for a moment bathed in moonlight, before he closed the distance, branding her lips with his own. The lust simmered in her again, but he pulled away before she could abandon herself again.

“Be well, Medea.”

And then he was lost in the rising mists, retreating from her with superhuman speed and taking all traces with him. She stared down at her pile of clothing, more bereft than ever. Before she had tricked herself into believing Pasiphae cared for her, wanted the best for her, but now she saw her for what she really was. A power hungry tyrant willing to kill even her own son to justify her ends. Medea inhaled sharply. She would not let that happen. Come what may, she would not let that witch of a woman take Jason from her. Medea shuddered as she remembered his flesh against her, within her. No. She would save Jason, whatever the price.

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for taking the time to read!
> 
> Let me know if you enjoy or want me to continue writing in the Atlantis fandom. I love Jason and Medea (I love Ariadne too) and I am seriously considering trying to do a Season 3 epic since I feel it's a good break from all of "The 100" stories I have brewing the back of my mind.


End file.
